


nice to have a friend

by aboringcliche



Category: Clone High
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, Established Friendship, F/M, Underage Drinking, cute fluff idk, how are you underage drinking? besides ILLEGAL?, they are in love there isn’t really much to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:21:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aboringcliche/pseuds/aboringcliche
Summary: post drunken christmas party
Relationships: JFK & Joan of Arc (Clone High)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	nice to have a friend

_”for he’s a jolly good fellow!”_

jfk swung joan’s arm as he walked drunkenly, clenching his mostly-empty beer bottle tightly.

_”for he’s a jolly good fellow!”_

the two had been at catherine the great’s christmas party for a good few hours after every sane person had left. that meant they had been left with only the popular kids, the few who were spending the night, and the random debris who’s foster parents didn’t give a rat’s ass if they came home safe or not.

_”for he’sssss a jolly good fel-lowwwwww!”_

he paused for slightly too long, trying to remember the next line, before eventually settling on. “blah blah, blah blah, blah, er uh, blah!”

joan giggled, tightening her grip on jfk’s arm to steady herself. “quit swinging so much, i’m getting _dizzy._ ”

“that’s life for ya, joansie. the world keeps spinnin’ even when you don’t, er, want it to.” the two paused for a long moment and stared at eachother for a moment, thinking about how deep and true that really was, before thankfully the moment was interrupted by a loud hiccup.

_“joan!”_ jfk laughed, but tried to sound angry and serious. “we were havin a, uh, moment!”

joan looked him up and down, before grinning wildly. “no. this is a moment, jack.” and without a word, she grabbed his already-messy hair and pulled him down towards her, kissing him violently. 

well, she tried to. the whole grinning thing wasn’t really helping.

jfk dropped the bottle on the ground and kissed her back sloppily, laughing. they stayed like that for a few minutes, until eventually joan broke it off.

_“woah!”_

“uh huh.” joan grinned. “hey, why were you singing the ‘for he’s a jolly good fellow’ thing? isn’t that, like, for birthdays or something? bachelor parties?” her voiced trailed off as she continued walking towards her car, dragging jfk behind her.

“i was, er, singin for jesus. he was a ‘jolly good’ fella, right?” he put on a terrible british accent for “jolly good”, making joan laugh out loud again, causing more hiccups and therefore even more laughter.

“bizarre.” she paused again and turned towards him, poking him in the stomach and trailing her finger up and down his centre lazily. “you’re bizarre.” she then waved her hands around, gesturing to the garden surrounding them, seeing as they had barely made it halfway down the driveway. “cath’s place is bizarre.” she gestured wider, stumbling. “this whole thing is bizarre. this _planet_ is bizarre!”

“we’re all pretty bizarre.” jfk nodded knowingly, seeming serious for once.

joan smiled softly. the breakfast club? god, jfk really was the perfect guy.

“the breakfast club? kennedy. you know you’re, like, the _perfect_ guy, right?”

he grinned dopily and blushed, any trace of seriousness completely done. “i, uh, know.” he tried to grab joan’s weak arm, which she was using to grab his, causing the two of them to collapse oh-so-gracefully on catherine the great’s flowerbed.

“oh _shoot!_ the flowers!” jfk started crying and turned back to joan, grabbing her wrists sadly. “joansie, i killed a bunch of cool, er, flowers! with my fat fucking ass!” 

she blinked at him twice before patting his head, like you do to a child. “we’re too” she paused to hiccup. “ i think we’re too drunk, jack.”

“you’re tellin _me._ ” okay, jfk wasn’t some lightweight or something, _obviously._ but even he had limits, and even he knew he was dangerously close to crossing them. like, what if he did something he’d regret? what if he-

“joan! joan, i, er, want you.”

joan watched incredulously as jfk started undoing his belt, not knowing whether to laugh or cry or go along with it. _“jack!”_

“mm?” he hummed in response, already unzipping his pants. joan swatted his hand away. “stop that! you’re _drunk._ ”

“but it’s, er, you. joansie. it’s you. and you kissed me but it’s only cause you’re, uh, drunk and stuff.” joan’s heart melted as she watched the guy’s eyes well up slightly. “you won’t want me anymore when you’re sober. you never want me.”

not really knowing what else to do, she hugged him tightly. “sleep, jack. i’ll want you. i promise. at least, i think i will. i...promise...to think i will.” she furrowed her eyebrows. that didn’t sound right. “sleep. we need sleep.” she smiled wistfully at that. _sleep._ not snotty parties or pretending to like her best friend’s other friends, or getting drunk off of fucking spiked punch like some cliche highschool movie. sleep.

“in t-the flowers?”

“got any better ideas?” she had a point. the two definitely couldn’t manage standing back up, let alone walking back to the car. and what would they even do then? she was way too tipsy to drive, and look how far gone _jfk_ was.

“but cold. and dead flowers...a-and bees!”

_“bees?”_ was he serious? “no bees. winter, too cold.”

_“exactly!”_ he held onto the mud on the ground below him and pushed himself up slowly. “too cold. sleep in, er, car.” he wiped the dirt from his hands onto his trousers and gestured at joan expectantly. 

drat. he had a point. joan weighed out their non-existent options before nodding and grabbing his leg to help herself up. the two huddled for warmth (it really _was_ cold) as they walked for another few minutes, before collapsing into joan’s car. the two lay on the back seat, joan next to but also sort of on top of jfk. if they hadn’t been drunk, it would _definitely_ have been a bit awkward.

“we sleep for an hour tops, then i drive us to my place. can’t stay long.” she trailed off, mumbling something about hypothermia and dead dogs and car fumes. jfk, who hadn’t been paying attention at all, simply nodded and closed his eyes, finally letting himself rest.

thankfully the winters in exclamation weren’t _too_ cold, and joan managed to wake up again and drive the two of them back to her place before either of them caught something. by that time it must have been around 6 in the morning, and driving with a pounding headache wasn’t exactly ideal. but the drive back was weirdly fun, thinking about the events of the night before. despite herself, joan couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy at the thought that jfk had been pining over her. over _her!_

god, she couldn’t believe she was getting giddy over a guy. she usually hated girls like that. but whatever, jfk was cute and funny and perfect and weirdly sweet and everything else the guys in the movies were meant to be, and she knew she had every right to be excited. in fact, he was the most sought-after guy in the school. sure, he'd fuck anything that moved, but no one else could _ever_ manage to affect him the way it seemed she could. it would be weird for her _not_ to be a little flustered, right?

she dragged a half asleep jfk out of the car and into her house, setting him on the couch and lying on his arm. surprisingly, she’d always thought the couches in her house were way more comfortable than her bed, plus this way they had easy access to the tv, which she figured would come in handy when they eventually woke up again. 

“j-joan?” he jfk asked sleepily when he felt her lying against her. it was a weird feeling: he’d never cuddled anyone before. fucked, sure, but _cuddling?_ he’d never cuddled with anyone, ever. it was scary, but weirdly thrilling. exciting. 

“yeah, jack?”

“kiss me again before i, er, go back to sleep?” he blushed, wondering if he was overstepping, before sighing internally with relief as joan smiled and nodded. she kissed him lightly this time, softly, but just as passionate as the drunken sloppiness from before. his lips were ice cold, and so was his hand that she grabbed while kissing him, but it still felt awesome. “sleep good, jack.”

“yaknow something?.” he grinned, already drifting. “you're a lot nicer when you're, ah, tipsy.”

she hit him with a pillow, laughing. "watch it, kennedy. i've knocked you out before and you know i will again. shut up and get some shut-eye."

jfk nodded and held her closer as he drifted back to sleep. 


End file.
